She hadn’t been living in her car, as our parents had claimed.
She was facing housing difficulties, but she’d exaggerated her circumstances after being encouraged to pressure me.
“Dad said a lawyer could help us stay once we got inside,” she whispered.
Mom snapped.
“You needed somewhere to live!”
Paige looked at her.
“Then why didn’t you offer me your guest room?”
Silence.
My parents lived in a spacious four-bedroom house.
They had plenty of room.
They simply preferred that I carry the inconvenience.
Paige seemed to understand that for the first time.
She picked up Emma’s stuffed rabbit.
“We’re leaving,” she said quietly.
As the officers escorted them toward the elevator, my father looked into the camera.
“You’ll regret turning against your family.”
I met his eyes.
“I haven’t turned against my family, Dad. I’ve stopped letting them use me.”
The elevator doors closed.
